


Regularly Scheduled Programming

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie Ships It, Hacking, Heaven, Home shopping network, M/M, Roadhouse in Heaven, tv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Ash continued his lecture on the manipulation of celestial wavelengths while Charlie’s mind wandered. Eventually, she smiled and settled in a quiet corner of the bar, conjuring up her favorite Hermione action figure to accompany her at the table. “Ready for a test, H?” She cracked her knuckles, and began to type.





	

Ash discovered it first. It was one of those little backdoor quirks of the OS running Heaven. He first used it to give his nephew (born after his death but family’s family) four straight hours of My Little Pony programming after his mother had told him that he could watch TV until it switched to daytime talk shows. It was surprisingly easy to program TV from Heaven. “It’s all wavelengths,” he lectured the half dozen people gathered around him.

Charlie, leaning across the bar in the Heavenly Roadhouse, took a thoughtful sip of her s’mores-atini - a concoction that tasted like marshmallow and chocolate and smelled like the memory of a crisp, fall night from her more innocent childhood. (Drinks in Heaven were the best.) “So what’s stopping us from making, like, webpages so we can communicate with people back on Earth?”

Ash leaned back on his bar stool and gestured to the matrix-green code that scrawled across his makeshift Heaven-interfacing laptop. “Can’t create nothin’,” he said. “But if a show is playing however many times around the world we can grab a copy of it and direct it to a TV set. We use my soul locator app, pair it with the TV scanner, and bam. Program your own network! Kinda cool, but not that useful.”

“I dunno,” mused Charlie. You could totally subliminally program somebody if you gave them certain stuff to watch. Certain messages, or moods, or whatever."

Ash shrugged. “Ain’t that useful because people don’t really watch broadcast TV anymore. Broadcast is passive. People can turn it off but as long as the set is on, we can use it.”

“Could we use a TV to talk to someone?” Charlie asked, thinking of a particular Winchester gospel she’d read online where Castiel had used TV and radio to communicate in Heaven.

“Naw, that’s angel level shit. Now let’s talk about radio waves…”

Ash continued his lecture on the manipulation of celestial wavelengths while Charlie’s mind wandered. Eventually, she smiled and settled in a quiet corner of the bar, conjuring up her favorite Hermione bobblehead to accompany her at the table. “Ready for a test, H?” She cracked her knuckles, and began to type.

* * *

Dean dropped the motel curtain with a grimace. “Does it ever not rain here?” He groused.

Castiel shook his head. “This is entirely out of season,” he said. “But fortunate for us. Shrigas hate getting wet. It should stay holed up in its cave until it dries out. This will give you a chance to get some rest before we try drawing it out again.”

“I’d just like to finish the job and get back to Mom and Sam, you know?”

“I know.” Castiel said, leaning against the thin motel pillow, long legs comfortably stretched out along the mattress. He held a book of lore on his lap and slowly flipped through the pages. A few minutes later he closed it, one finger between the pages to hold his place. He scowled at Dean who paced like a caged tiger up and down the length of the motel room. “Dean, please sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

“Cas, you’re an angel. You don’t get dizzy.” But Dean did as he asked and settled himself on the other side of the bed next to Castiel. He reached across him to grab the remote from the nightstand and said quickly, “Your bed’s in front the TV, man.” He pressed the on button but nothing happened. Dean mashed the button two more times before slamming the remote with his palm. “Friggin’ batteries are dead,” he sighed.

Castiel opened his book again and flicked his finger once. The TV switched on.

“Show off,” Dean laughed and scooted further back along the mattress until he was settled shoulder to shoulder with Castiel. On the TV the end credits of the crime drama Streets of Justice scrolled. He tilted his head over the lore book in Castiel’s lap as commercial breaks swept in. “Anything good in there?”

Castiel shrugged. “Nothing we didn’t know about shrigas before. Though there is a fascinating chapter on the dietary habits of the octangular spider dog.”

“Spider dog, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Bet its bite is worse than its bark.”

“Dean.” Castiel shook his head, dipping his chin to hide his smile. “That’s a terrible joke.”

Dean settled back against the wall again. “My jokes are amazing,” he said. And then, “Oh shit. Dr. Sexy is on?” The opening credits for the medical drama unfolded on the TV.

“Doctor Sexy?”

Dean pointed at the screen. “Dr. Sexy is the dude wearing cowboy boots. And this is only the best show on TV, Cas. It’s not usually on tonight!” Dean enthusiastically explained the finer points of the show during the next hour, and then two hours, and then three as the apparent Dr. Sexy marathon continued. After a while, Dean drifted off to sleep, chin falling to his chest and head lolling to the side until his cheek rested on Castiel’s shoulder and his arm fell down to rest between their bodies.

With Dean asleep, Castiel could turn off the TV and read quietly until morning but he didn’t. He watched another Dr. Sexy episode, Dean pressed warm and close against his side. When the final credits rolled the next show advertised itself as the Home Shop and Ship. Castiel returned his gaze to the book in his lap, only to have his attention drawn by the announcer who said, “And tonight, we’re just selling boots. That’s right, folks. Sexy cowboy boots. Get ‘em while they’re hot.” Castiel watched the show for several minutes then looked down at Dean, sleeping soundly on the bed. Carefully, he slipped his phone and a slim wallet from his pocket and pulled out the credit card Sam had made for him. He looked at his shoes. He could do with a change. Castiel smiled and dialed the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) first. Now posting here so I don't lose it.


End file.
